


Sanctuary Prompts

by sfiddy



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Lady!Belle, Original Characters - Freeform, Sanctuary-verse, Spinner!Rum, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-23 00:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4855712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfiddy/pseuds/sfiddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets, one-shots, and drabbles based on prompts I have received for the characters and situations in my story, Sanctuary.  Accepting prompts, which may be filled haphazardly, unexpectedly, and in no particular order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Apprentices

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sanctuary](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025891) by [sfiddy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfiddy/pseuds/sfiddy). 



Anonymous asked: Hey, a TMI or a prompt I guess it's however you'd like to answer it? Sanctuary!Bae, have you gotten to know or spent much time with your fathers apprentices?

…

The Apprentices- A Sanctuary-verse addition

For the first few weeks in the new house, Baelfire loved nothing more than to look in every room to find every corner, inspect every cabinet, and discover all the hidey-holes that a seven year old boy should know about. Sometimes people came with loaded wagons. Sometimes it was things from their little house back in the village, other times it was new things. 

Whatever it was, when the big men came into the house and moved things around as Belle or Papa saw fit, Bae hid in one of his new bolt holes until the house was quiet, or until he heard Papa and Belle talking. Then it was good to come out and see what was new.

Sometimes, though, if it was warm enough and he was tired, he’d fall asleep curled up in a cupboard or behind a bed. Belle usually found him and tugged him out from his hiding spot, and there was always buttered bread or milk waiting for him.

One day a cart came and the men began unloading crates and wood pieces. Bae tucked himself away under one of the pair of beds in an upper room and waited. It was late spring, and the sun had warmed the room so, as young boys tend to do, he fell asleep once he was still.

It wasn’t Belle’s voice or Papa’s tapping stick that woke him, but a funny feeling of unease. He snuffled the sleep from his face and turned, only to see two pairs of curious eyes looking back at him.

He blinked.

They blinked back. Faces came into focus. “Are you Baelfire?”

“Um, yes? Who are you? Where is my Papa?” Baelfire scooted across the floor and the faces moved away to make space. When he sat up, there were two girls in nice homespun dresses, older than he, sitting on the bed opposite.

“He’s downstairs with the new loom,” said the older girl of the two. “It was a gift from Lord Longbourne so we could be trained as seamstresses.”

Bae got up off the floor. “Who’s going to train you?”

The younger girl looked at him and frowned. “Why, your Papa, of course!”

And it was then that Bae began to realize how very far he was from his little village.

…

Several weeks passed and Bae got used to having the two apprentices around. Claire and Falina were daughters of kitchen workers and tradesmen and were fortunate enough to have been born with brains enough to measure and sum and mothers who knew they needed a trade to avoid a life of complete drudgery. 

Papa kept them busy much of the day, either spinning to make fine thread for embroidery- not just for simple decorations, but intricate patterns that tricked the eye- working the loom, or practicing the construction of clothing.

Belle was often their practice model, when she wasn’t busy working the garden or overseeing her kitchen helper. Many days found Belle’s favorite blue dress (the one Papa made) covered with a drape of roughspun with markings and bits of finer fabrics pinned to it. 

Claire and Falina learned fast, and Bae was very proud his Papa was their teacher. He already knew how skilled his Papa was, now others could find out, too. 

…

The Summer Festivals were coming and Longbourne was the center of activity for miles and miles around. The province was recovering from years of hunger and threadbare living and celebration was in the air. Bae ate sweet honey bread and fresh peas off the vine and grinned when there were second helpings of baked eggs with cheese.

But there were shadows as well. The war had ended less than a year ago and the displaced and dispossessed came to the bright activity like moths to flame. 

One evening, no more than a week away from the Summer Solstice, after the apprentices cleared their workbenches and set their projects upon the forms for the night, Bae could hear Belle and his Papa talking softly. They sat in their chairs by the kitchen fire, their favorite place to drink tea and relax in the evening, and didn’t notice Baelfire listening by the door.

They were concerned about something, and after talking a bit more, agreed with each other. He didn’t understand much, only pieces here and there, and the longer he crouched by the door, the harder it got to pick the voices out from the crackling fire. Bae ate more than Belle that evening and his full tummy was making his eyelids heavy and every noise got buzzy like the clumsy bumblebees in the garden.

Bae yawned and padded up to his lonely room and climbed under his rabbit furs.

…

The day before the Summer Solstice was exciting and busy. Work had stopped in the shop for anything other than preparing for the festivals and Bae helped Belle hang ribbons and flowers in the shop window. His Papa asked for help getting the chickens into their pen and brushing Friend. 

“Bae do you like our new house?” his Papa asked as he helped Bae onto a stool and handed him a brush.

“Yes. I like the garden and the places to hide and all the eggs!” 

His Papa chuckled. “Have you made many friends?”

Bae shrugged. “Claire and Falina are busy, but they let me help sometimes.”

“I was thinking of friends you could play with.”

Bae thought for a moment. “I sometimes play games with Belle.”

His Papa nodded. “Maybe you’ll make a new friend soon.”

…

The city swelled and sparkled with the faces of travelers, peasants, and royalty alike. Some wore silly masks, others decked themselves in finery, and others wore wild costumes to honor the sun, the moon, the fairies, or various animals. Rumplestiltskin took Bae into the town square to see jugglers and fakirs and dancers who spun like whirlwinds to the sound of pipes and drums. When the sky grew dim, and it was very late, they headed home where Belle had spent the afternoon. She greeted them with a smile and gave Bae a big hug before wishing him a good night.

Bae was droopy and happy, smiling as he made his way to his room across the hall from the two apprentices. When he opened his door, he nearly tripped.

There was a second bed in his room, but no one to be seen. Bae prodded the lump in the bed only to find that it was just a blanket. Remembering his own habits, Bae crouched down to look under the bed.

A set of dark eyes blinked back.

Bae lit the candle. “Hello? Who are you?”

Rustling, but no words.

Bae sat by the bed and tapped his toes on the floor. “If you’re another apprentice, then you should know that my Papa is the best tailor and spinner in the whole wide realm. If you’re going to work in the kitchens, then you’re going to learn how to cook and clean from a princess. Belle makes good pies, too.” He examined a seam in the floorboards. “If you’re hungry, she always leaves some cheese or bread where I can reach it. I could show you.”

There was another rustle, and this time it edged closer to the edge of the bed. Bae sat still and waited until the scooting and scraping got even closer. “Are you hungry?”

A dark head nudged out and turned sideways to peer up. “Not hungry.”

“Okay,” Bae said. “That’s good. I hate going to bed hungry. Or cold.”

The boy under the bed lay on his side and stayed half hidden. “I hate being cold, too.”

Bae brightened. “I caught lots of rabbits and saved the furs to make my own covers. We’d eat the meat and I spent a whole winter getting the furs ready. Then my Papa helped me sew them and then he could keep Belle company at night.” He straightened. “I’m too big to share at night now.”

The boy turned shiny, tired eyes to Bae. “You made the fur on that bed?”

“Yep. Sewed it up, too.”

The boy crawled out from under the bed and sat next to Bae. “Do you think you could show me how to catch rabbits, too?”

Bae nodded very seriously. “Yes. But Papa will have to show you how to make the twine, though. And how to sew the furs. There’s a special knot and I forget how to do it.”

The boy stared at his feet, just like Bae. “Do you think he will?”

“Sure he will. Papa always teaches when you ask. What does your Papa do?”

The boy stared intently at the floor. “He was a soldier.”

“Oh.” Bae knew that look. “And your Mama?”

The boy tucked his arms under his knees. “Fever.”

Bae was very quiet. He’d never known a real orphan. In their village, there was always family around, and even when a mother was lost, her sisters and extended family was always there to step in. And he hadn’t been in Longbourne long enough to know many neighbors yet.

The boy pushed his chin between his knees and his shoulders shuddered for a moment. Bae knew it wasn’t from the cool evening air.

“Hey, if you want, we can push the beds together and you can see how warm the furs are.” The boy stood and helped, but said nothing. Bae blew out the candle and the two little boys crawled under the covers and faced the dark night.

Bae tugged the furs to lie more evenly. “I’m Bae. What’s your name?”

“Amis.”

“Pleased to meet you, Amis. You know, Belle’s not my real Mama, but she knows lots of great games and I bet she’d love to play with you, too.”

Amis shifted around and spoke so softly Bae could barely hear him even in the silent room. “Do you really think so?”

Bae yawned, tired from his long day and starting to relax under the warm covers. “I know so.”

And both boys were asleep within minutes.


	2. Inspired Shepherds and Tiny Projects

Anonymous asked: Different anon here! Question or prompt for Sanctuary (whatever works best for you): Do Rumple and Belle have their own children?

...

Rumplestiltskin straightened and looked over the garden. Late season cabbages were forming heads, potatoes ready for storage were heaped under mounds of soil and the same went for a row of carrots. Onions were ready to pull and hang, and a bounty of beets, yams, beans, and other filling crops were nearing harvest stage. 

The year had been kind, in so many ways.

Belle returned to the garden, hefting a pair of sturdy harvest baskets and prepared to attack the next mound of potatoes. She raised her head as she settled in and grinned mischievously. Rumplestiltskin chuckled. After the life she had previously led, few things made her feel as wickedly alive as getting dirty. She was as earthy on the outside as she was well-bred on the inside.

As he surveyed the garden and mentally calculated the stocks already put up for the winter. It might get tight towards the end of winter with so many mouths to feed, but no one would go hungry. A few bags of grain and some well-placed snares could cover the rest, anyway. Rumplestiltskin reflected on how fertile the land had been. 

With a whoop of triumph, Belle held up the largest potato he’d ever seen. The garden they’d acquired was fertile, indeed. 

Belle was as trim as ever.

He wasn’t being fair, he knew. And he’d sooner cut out his tongue than say anything, but part of him wanted, yearned, for a child of Belle’s to bounce and coo at. It was true, though, that after a war it took time for women to bear again- strain, hunger, and fear had a way of stopping such acts of hope and love. Belle had borne more than most over the past year.

Rumplestiltskin hoped that, in time, perhaps she might bless him with another child. Not that Bae wasn’t enough, or that he needed proof of anything, but hearts had a way of growing and making space for more love. Rumplestiltskin knew his heart, once devoted solely to Bae, had managed to make space for Belle. How wonderful it would be, then, to embrace another precious addition? 

He sank the tines of the pitchfork into earth to loosen it. Even the most fertile ground had to be tended to bear fruit.

.

Heavy sleep was the reward for a good day’s work, and this night was no exception. Heavy limbed and comforted by a well-stocked larder, Rumplestiltskin fell asleep fast with Belle by his side, looking forward to a day with his apprentices. He drifted, imagining rich winter suppers of salt pork seasoned vegetables and dried sausage.

“Rumple?”

“Hmmm?” he managed. Half asleep was never his best time.

“Are you happy?”

He snapped awake. Belle was barely visible in the faint, dancing light from the fire, and her eyes were wide in the dim room. “Belle?”

She turned on her back and looked at the ceiling. “I mean, with everything here in the new house, Bae’s tutor, the new apprentices, and everything. Does it all make you happy?”

Unsure of the terrain, Rumple tread lightly. “I’m very happy, Belle. I never thought I’d have so much in this life.”

Belle’s hands worried with the bedclothes. “Do you feel like there should be more?”

He turned on his side, but Belle’s eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling. “I have a beautiful wife that I love, a growing son, a home, a trade, apprentices, and food in the larder. Only an ungrateful fool asks for more.” 

At that, Belle’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment. “I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful. I just—” She struggled for words. “I feel like there is one more thing. One more thing that would make it perfect.”

Even in the dim light, Rumplestiltskin caught the movement of her hand over her flat belly. It made his heart ache for her. He wasn’t the only one thinking about it, and how could he be? Other women with husbands back from the war were growing round. But then, they probably hadn’t fled across the realm and hidden in fear of their lives.

“My sweet Belle,” he murmured. “You are young and we have time.” He reached out and put his hand over hers, stroking her arm and middle through her soft nightdress. “I love you and our life no matter what.”

Belle turned on her side and flung an arm around his neck. Her kisses were fierce and needy, and he was happy to take her fears and help her bury them for the night. 

.

The episode passed. Much of the harvest season passed in a blur but, from time to time, when Belle didn’t think anyone was looking, Rumplestiltskin could see the wistful look in her eyes. It reminded him far too much of himself in years gone by, and drove him to seek counsel.

“Ah, Rumplestiltskin!” greeted the ruddy-faced man. He lightly pulled the reins to stop his mule and hopped nimbly from the cart. “Ready for this month’s delivery, I see?”

Rumplestiltskin had his coin ready. “Aye, Barnabus. Good lot this time?”

“The best, my friend. My sons were admiring it even as they sheared it from the sheep. This is the last shear before the cold settles. Lord Longbourne asked that I make sure you’re well supplied, and, if you’re willing, I’m happy to sell it all to you.”

The promise of a full supply for the winter was tempting. “Are you sure I’ll not be taking from others? Don’t you need some?”

Barnabus scoffed. “I only sell what I don’t need, which is a fair amount with my family.”

Rumplestiltskin’s interest was piqued. “How many children do you have, Barnabus?”

He laughed. “I have nine, and another on the way. My dear wife is a busy woman.” Barnabus hefted a bag of wool from his cart and opened it. “What do you think, spinner?”

Rumplestiltskin absentmindedly felt the wool. “A fine lot, indeed. Your wife, she’s the mother of all your children?”

“That she is. Oh, that bag there is the shorter cuts. My youngest is learning to shear and he’s not so steady, even with his brothers helping. Reduced charge for those.”

“How old is your youngest?”

“The lad is just six. Born just after the most recent war started. I would have gone to the front, but my herd was too big and the King preferred I supply wool rather than blood.”

Rumplestiltskin winced. “And your wife is expecting now?”

“Aye. Hard times make for few babes.” Barnabus’s face softened. “Brightened the whole house when she found out she had another coming.” He smiled and stared, then shook himself and tied off the open bag. “And what about you and your own bonny wife?”

Rumple shook his head. “Still… waiting.”

Barnabus made a noise of sympathy. “I don’t know how much waiting does, but I know that women need to be secure, happy, and relaxed. That’s what festivals and feasts are good for.” The big man looked at Rumplestiltskin appraisingly. “You’re a good man who works hard. I’ve no doubt your wife matches you. Do you take time to play as well, I wonder?”

The thought gave Rumplestiltskin pause, until a hearty slap on the back made him lurch into his staff.

“Don’t worry about it, my friend! I’ll send my eldest with the rest of the delivery later. We may just slip in a special gift for you and your wife.” Barnabus winked. “Our fruit trees were very generous this year. Had so much we couldn’t possibly eat it all.”

.

The bags of wool were stored safely in the workshop and Rumplestiltskin breathed a little easier. There would be no shortages of any kind this winter. He could not remember a winter where hunger and low supplies were not constant threats. If he had enough to spin, then he could get food. It was an unfathomable luxury to have both in good supply.

That meant… time. He and Belle would have time on their hands.

Rumplestiltskin ran a hand over the four bottles of homemade wine. The eldest son of Barnabus, a gangly boy of seventeen by the name of Jonas, had grinned when he set them down. “You’ll want to let them settle for a few weeks unless you want to strain it through your teeth.”

That was fine. In another week or two, the putting up would be done and the garden would be ready to cover for the winter. 

.

The first frost of the season came and melted with the sun, but it was a change that the whole town felt. Winter drapery was hung and the last cracks and chinks in every home’s armor were sealed with pitch or paste. 

Belle’s attention was now diverted from the frenzy of preparation to the quieter pursuits of maintenance. With two apprentices always making a variety of clothes, she hardly needed to spend her time mending anything she didn’t want to mend herself, and while she still prepared most of the food, she had a kitchen helper who could do the simple but time consuming tasks.

Rumpelstiltskin admired the state of his home. Belle was making a quilt, Bae had begun stringing his snares with the help of his new friend, Amis, and his apprentices Claire and Falina were fussing over a gown they were commissioned to make. Dinner was bubbling on the hearth and there was no need to do anything more pressing than suggest a tuck or pleat along a seamline to enhance the lay of the fabric on the gown.

After dinner, relaxed and comfortable after all the cleaning was done and the kitchen helper was gone for the night, Rumplestiltskin carefully poured one bottle into a lidded pitcher and set it in the cold closet. Once the apprentices were in their rooms and Bae was settled for the night, he brought it to the small table between his and Belle’s chairs.

She looked up from the fire curiously. “That’s not tea, is it?”

“Nope. Barnabas sends his best.” He poured a dram into both of their cups held his up.

Belle lifted her cup. “What are we toasting?”

Rumplestiltskin pushed the hair from his eyes thoughtfully. “To a magnificent harvest, a peaceful winter, a fertile spring, and a beautiful wife.” He kept his cup up, waiting for her.

Rosy cheeked, Belle’s eyes tracked to the side in thought before holding her cup up higher. “To well plowed fields and inspired shepherds.” She tipped her cup and began to drain it before Rumplestiltskin remembered he had a drink of his own. 

He quickly sloshed back the homebrew and immediately regretted his hasty pour. Belle giggled at Rumplestiltskin’s spluttering. 

“Barnaba’s best, it is?” She held up her cup and examined the stringy dregs, smacking her lips.

“He said his fruit trees were generous this year,” Rumple said, wheezing a bit through the burn. “He didn’t mention which, or anything else he added.”

Belle grinned. “I’ve had worse. You should have seen the grog they brew in the Riverlands. I had to drink it at the high table with a smile.” She picked up the pitcher and poured them each a measure. “But I never had such a wonderful toast to drink to.” She sipped. “Now, I believe we were talking about plowing.”

The new dent in Rumplestiltskin’s cup was shallow, owing to the fact that he was sitting when he dropped it.

.

“Papa! Papa!” Baelfire whooped as he hopped the garden markers and ran to the house. “The river ice is gone! The river’s running again!”

Bright light, the kind that only comes when sunlight hits snow and wet ice, cut sharp lines across the main work room as Bae threw the door open. “Papa! Thaw is here!”

Rumplestiltskin leapt up as quickly as his leg allowed and the apprentices were on their feet as well. Amis and Bae ran out together to see as the two girls debated spring colors and what to do when the lambswool came in.

Rather than crowing, Rumplestiltskin made his way to the largest bedroom, knowing the news was being just as well received, even if the reaction was more subdued.

“I assume you heard that?” he said softly as he entered the room.

Belle looked up from her sewing. The seams were mostly straight but nothing on earth would convince her that anyone else should be at the task. “I’m not sure how I could miss it!” She held up her tiny project. “What do you think? I used one of Bae’s old ones as a pattern, but I think one sleeve might be longer than the other.”

Rumplestiltskin refused to hold back a tear and sniffed as he gently stroked her rounding figure. “It will be perfect.”

.


End file.
